Seasons: Summer
by chelsie fan
Summary: Chelsie AU set in August, 1913. While the others attend the annual village flower show, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes remain behind, enjoy a beautiful summer afternoon, and have a heart-to-heart talk.


**A/N This story, like its predecessor, is dedicated to the inimitable brenna-louise. If you haven't already noticed the thumbnail cover image, take a good look at it; she painted it for me! Isn't it wonderful? For a better look at it, you can go to my tumblr page - my handle there is chelsiefan71. I'm sure brenna-louise will love it if you drop her a PM here on this site or visit her tumblr page to leave fan mail and let her know how beautiful her painting is and how talented she is.**

**This is the second in a series of four fics, centered around the seasons, describing four possible ways our Chelsie could get together. Spring has already been posted, and autumn and winter will follow as soon as they're ready. Brenna-louise has kindly agreed to illustrate those, too. Yay!**

**HUGE thanks to evita-mockingbird for her invaluable help with this story!**

Summer

August, 1913

Mr. Carson had dressed in his Sunday suit and was almost ready to go to the village's annual flower show with the rest of the staff. He had no wish to make everyone else late, but he needed to attend to a few matters before he could leave. Seeking out Mrs. Hughes, he went to the servants' hall, where the others were gathered and waiting for him.

"Mrs. Hughes … " He beckoned her from the doorway, and she walked over to him. "Would you mind going on ahead with everyone else? I've a few things to finish up here before I can leave. I'll be just a few minutes behind you, but I don't want to detain the rest of you. I'll either catch up or meet you there."

"Certainly, Mr. Carson, if you'd like. But would you prefer I wait for you? I wouldn't mind," she offered.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. That's very kind of you, but isn't necessary. I won't be but a few more minutes. Go on without me."

"All right, then. If you're sure ... "

"I am. Thank you." And with that, he smiled gratefully and returned to his pantry.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Mrs. Hughes took the others and started off towards the village. She followed them across the grounds, but when they reached the lane that led to the village, she sent them ahead, telling them she'd be along shortly. She found the shade of a nice tree and decided to wait there for Mr. Carson.

The sun shone, a gentle breeze blew, and the birds sang, but she hardly noticed, occupied as she was with other matters. As her feet meandered aimlessly back and forth or around the base of the tree, she thought, as she often did, about Mr. Carson. She recalled a discussion they'd once had.

_Mrs. Hughes asked Mr. Carson if he'd ever wished he'd been married and had a family. Though he didn't answer her, she admitted, honestly, that she __**did**__ sometimes wish she'd married and had children. She'd been happy with her work and her life at Downton, but she'd always wondered if she could have been a happily married woman._

_She'd received a proposal once, when she'd first come to work at the Abbey. She'd been walking out with a farmer, a kind man who would have taken good care of her. But the idea of being his wife, raising his children, and living on his farm hadn't suited her. She'd been working at the house long enough to know that life at Downton Abbey __**did **__suit_ _her._

_For a long time, she hadn't regretted declining his offer of marriage, but as the years wore on, she'd begun to wonder if she could have been happy with him. However, when she'd seen him again recently, she had indeed been able to set her mind at ease._

_When he'd proposed to her the first time, she'd thought she was in love with him. She'd believed she was sacrificing her chance at love and marriage for what she saw as a better life. But as she sat one afternoon in her sitting room, trying to explain to Mr. Carson why she'd turned down a second marriage proposal, she understood with sudden clarity that she hadn't been rejecting farm life or marriage in general, but the man who was offering both. And the reason she'd rejected his offers was sitting right in front of her: the man whose presence made that better life better. She could never have married someone else, because she'd fallen in love with Mr. Carson. The irony of it all, however, was that her situation – that better life – necessarily precluded marriage. She understood at last that she hadn't sacrificed love for this better life, but instead she'd sacrificed a chance at marriage in order to be with her true love. Spending her life working alongside a man whom she truly loved but could never marry would be painful. Spending her life married to a man whom she'd never loved would have been unbearable. _

A chittering squirrel scurried up the tree and brought Mrs. Hughes back to the present. She sighed wearily and continued to wait for Mr. Carson.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Having taken care of the dinner wine, tarnished candlesticks, and invoices that had delayed his departure, Mr. Carson emerged from his pantry and poked his head into the kitchen.

"They've all gone then, Mrs. Patmore?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Carson, they're all off, but I daresay you'd better hurry if you don't want to miss it altogether. As it is, you'll have missed the preliminaries."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right. Thank you."

"Right. Now be off with you, before you miss the whole show! If you leave now, you've at least a chance to see the awards presentation. Not that it matters, mind you. We all know how it will turn out," the cook remarked cynically.

"Nonsense! The Dowager Countess has some extraordinary specimens," he insisted, "and _if_ she wins the Grantham Cup again, then she will have earned it. This year's winner is not a foregone conclusion. I understand old Mr. Molesley has some excellent roses to show."

"Hmph!" scoffed Mrs. Patmore. "He always does! But what does it matter? If anyone but the Old Bat wins, I'll eat my cap!"

Mr. Carson opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hands to silence him.

"Go on, then!" she chided. "You're already quite late. We don't want Mrs. Hughes to worry."

"Yes, you're right. Thank you for minding the house."

"Go!" She made a shooing motion, and he hurried off obediently.

Mr. Carson donned his hat as he closed the back door and stepped out into the courtyard. As he walked across the lawn, he thought about Mrs. Hughes, as he frequently did. His mind wandered to a conversation they'd had just over a year previous and everything that had happened since then.

_One afternoon, Mr. Carson called the family "__**our**__ family." Mrs. Hughes didn't see it that way, but he explained that the Crawleys were the only family __**he**__ had. Then she asked him a question he wasn't prepared for: did he ever wish he'd "gone another way?" He was caught off guard and unwilling to answer. In fact, he __**had**__ once wanted to go another way. He'd been in love with a woman, and he'd wanted very badly to marry her and have a family. But it was never to be, because the object of his affections had chosen another man instead of him. She'd injured him deeply, and Mr. Carson couldn't speak of it, so he chose not to answer, but instead turned the question back on Mrs. Hughes._

_After that day, his mind often returned to that discussion. That day had marked the beginning of the slow process of thoughts that eventually led to an epiphany. After months of soul-searching, he realized that his bitterness had blinded him to something else: another chance. For years, he'd been brooding in bitterness and despair, thinking he'd lost his one chance at love and happiness, all the while completely ignoring the second chance that was staring him in the face. He'd spent years lamenting the loss of a faithless, undeserving, young girl, while he'd somehow ignored the quiet constancy of a loyal, worthy, mature woman. While his young love had been fueled by blind passion and misplaced, unrequited devotion, his older, more seasoned love - though he'd been late in recognizing it - was true, deep, lasting, and ever-increasing. Unfortunately for Mr. Carson, as soon as he'd decided he wanted to __**take**__ that second chance, something else happened._

_One evening when Mrs. Hughes came to his pantry to tell him that she was going out to the fair, he couldn't help but notice how especially lovely she looked. She offered to stay behind and help at the house, but he told her to go, and so she went. While she was away, Mr. Carson felt uneasy, and the more he thought, the more troubled he became. It was unusual for Mrs. Hughes to take a night off; Mr. Carson couldn't even remember the last time she'd gone out for the evening. After he served drinks upstairs and saw the family off to bed, he waited in his pantry for her to return. But when she came home, she said good night to a few of the staff in the servants' hall and then went right upstairs without stopping to see him. A few minutes later, the maids and footmen returned from the fair, and he overheard them first observing that Mrs. Hughes had looked "sparkly-eyed," and then speculating about her "fancy man." He quickly put an end to their gossip and sent them off to bed, but his heart was aching. Their comments confirmed his suspicions: once again, the woman he loved had chosen another man._

_A few days later, he found Mrs. Hughes in her sitting room looking preoccupied, and she asked him to stay and talk to her. She began by telling him about the farmer who'd once asked her to marry him. As she continued to speak tenderly about the man, each word broke off a tiny piece of Mr. Carson's heart, until it felt shattered to bits. But then she surprised him when, instead of delivering the expected blow, she told him that she'd declined her friend's second proposal, explaining that she was no longer the farm girl she'd once been. He was scarcely able to contain his relief and joy at hearing that she wouldn't be leaving. He might have made a fool of himself if they hadn't been interrupted just then._

_His initial elation waned, however, as he thought more about her explanation. The reason she'd given for her refusal concerned him. Had it been merely that she found the prospect of going back to farm life objectionable, or had she been rejecting the man himself? She'd spoken fondly of her farmer, but maybe she simply loved her life and work at Downton more than she cared for him. Maybe, for the right man, she would be willing to sacrifice her life at Downton in favor of married life. But there was another possibility, too, and it filled him with dread: might she have been renouncing the idea of marriage altogether? Previously, she'd admitted to having sometimes wished she'd gone another way, but what if she'd changed her mind?_

_No sooner had he realized that he loved Mrs. Hughes and wanted to marry her than he almost lost her to another man. But then, as soon as he discovered he hadn't lost her to another man, he began to fear that she might not be interested in marriage at all – let alone marriage to him. It was almost more than he could take._

So distracted was Mr. Carson as he walked that he was nearly upon Mrs. Hughes before he noticed her standing under the tree.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"There you are!" she called out, smiling brightly as he approached.

She looked so beautiful that he couldn't help but return her smile.

"Mrs. Hughes," he greeted her. "I thought you'd gone ahead with the others."

"I sent them on without me. I decided to wait for you."

"Well, that wasn't necessary, but I'm grateful for your company. Shall we go, then?" he asked.

"It's already rather late. I think by the time we get there, the show will be over."

He quickly consulted his pocket watch, which confirmed Mrs. Hughes's observation.

"I'm afraid you're right," he sighed. "I'm sorry to have made you miss the festivities. I suppose we should just head back home now."

"Not so fast, Mr. Carson. It's a lovely day, and this is a fine, cool spot under a nice, shady tree. We're not needed back immediately; the others won't return for some time yet. Why not enjoy the pleasant weather for a little while?" she suggested.

Mr. Carson considered for a moment before nodding his agreement. "Perhaps you're right. Some fresh air and sunshine would be a most welcome change – not to mention the peace and quiet."

"Yes, it's not often that we have such an opportunity."

"No, it's not … " he said, trailing off thoughtfully.

Mr. Carson removed his hat, held it in his hands, and fiddled with it as he began, "Mrs. Hughes, I hope you won't think me too forward, but I find myself recalling our conversation from some time ago, and I wonder ... Do you find yourself still wishing you'd gone another way?"

Mrs. Hughes looked at him curiously, but she didn't respond immediately, so he continued, "You once told me that you sometimes longed for a different life, that you sometimes thought of marriage. But when your farmer friend visited, he proposed marriage, and you turned him down. You didn't seem to want that life any more. Only … I wonder why you changed your mind. Are you so content with your position now that you no longer think of marriage?"

She considered for a moment and replied thoughtfully, "When I refused him the first time, it was exactly that. I thought my position at Downton and my future in service were more important to me than marriage. As time wore on, though, I began to wonder more and more about the possibility of marrying. When my friend wrote to me recently, I agreed to see him again, but when I did, I realized that I didn't want to marry him. It wasn't that I didn't want to _marry_; it was that I didn't want to marry _him_. He's a fine man, and I'm very fond of him, but I don't love him. I couldn't marry him, because he's not the man for me."

"And _is_ there a man for you, do you think?" he asked expectantly as he moved closer.

"I think there might be," she told him.

"And for this man, could you be persuaded to sacrifice everything you've worked for here at Downton?" inquired Mr. Carson.

"I could," answered Mrs. Hughes. "Only … he's never asked."

Mr. Carson didn't respond, but stood motionless and silent, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, so Mrs. Hughes prodded.

"What about you, Mr. Carson? You never did answer my question. Do you ever wish you'd gone another way?"

He looked down at the ground before answering. "I did, once, when I was younger. Before I came to Downton, I courted a girl. I wanted to marry her, but she fancied someone else, and that was the end of it. After that, I thought I'd missed my only chance. I didn't think there would ever be anyone else. But recently I've come to realize … " He trailed off and looked into the distance.

"You've come to realize there might be someone?" she supplied helpfully.

"I've come to realize that there _is_ someone – someone far superior."

Now it was Mrs. Hughes whose eyebrows rose and whose jaw fell.

Mr. Carson took a moment to catch his breath. He turned away and set his hat down on the ground. As badly as he wanted to declare his love and to sweep Mrs. Hughes into his arms immediately, he more urgently wanted this sublime moment to last, and he hoped she wouldn't mind his drawing it out a little longer. He knew how this particular encounter would end, and he surmised that she did, too.

When he turned back to her, he took her hands in his and regarded them thoughtfully. They were not the hands of a privileged lady, immaculate and soft and white. They were worn and weathered from decades of hard work. He could see fine wrinkles and prominent veins, darkened age spots and small scars, dry patches and rough calluses. They spoke of a caring, hard-working woman – one who'd spent years nursing others who were ill; scrubbing grimy floors and polishing delicate furniture; washing, sewing, and ironing other people's clothes and linens; and carrying heavier loads than she should have. Each imperfection told a story, and hers were the most beautiful hands he'd ever seen.

Releasing one of her hands, he held the other and used his index finger to draw delicate patterns on her palm and the back of her hand. Next, he brushed his lips softly over her knuckles. Then, he pressed her fingertips to his mouth. Finally, he kissed her palm and rubbed his nose lightly over the inside of her wrist. All the while, Mrs. Hughes stood rapt, staring at him intently as he reverently and deliberately lavished these attentions on her. When he'd finished, he placed her hand over his heart and held it there firmly.

They remained still for a long time, not speaking, but looking fixedly into each other's eyes. Mr. Carson moved his hands to her hips, but Mrs. Hughes left her hand over his heart. With her other hand, she cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and stood entranced, while she made a careful study of his face. She noticed that the crease in his brow, so deep and foreboding when he was either dissatisfied with something or concerned about one of his charges, had now nearly vanished. She thought she might be the only person who knew that this particular furrow was caused more by worry than by displeasure. Similarly, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes – those small creases that so fascinated her when he smiled, responding to her teasing or taking pride in a job well done or gazing fondly at his beloved Lady Mary - were almost absent now in his serious countenance. For a moment, she considered that she was probably privileged to see those happy wrinkles more often than anyone else, and she even flattered herself to think that she might be that cause of some of them. Lastly, she observed that, in contrast to the other lines in his skin, which were now smoothed out and diminished, the dimple in his chin had become more pronounced. The cleft, which deepened during periods of intense concentration, now manifested itself quite distinctly.

The handsome face she'd so often admired with her eyes, she now dared to explore with her fingertips. With a feather-light touch, she slowly outlined his features, moving first from his eyebrows and eyelashes to his nose, then to his cheeks and temples, and finally over his chin and to his lips. She lingered on his lips, lightly tickling with one finger, alternately using the pad of her finger and her fingernail.

When the temptation to kiss those lips became too great, Mrs. Hughes dropped her gaze to Mr. Carson's neck. She laid her hand on his chest, next to the one still resting over his heart. She smoothed her fingers over his necktie and waistcoat, traced the line where his collar met his neck, and felt his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard. He opened his eyes and ran his hands along her hips and sides and over her back, pulling her even closer as he did so. Finally, Mr. Carson spoke.

"Mrs. Hughes … _Elsie_ … I hate having to ask you to leave Downton, but I desperately want to marry you. We've done well as butler and housekeeper, but it's no longer enough. I want more. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together as man and wife. Will you have me? Will you be mine?"

"Do you mean it, Mr. Carson? _Charles_?" asked Mrs. Hughes, somewhat still in shock. "Your position means so much to you. I know how devoted you are to the house and the family. You're really willing to leave your post … Downton … the Crawleys?"

"I'm perfectly in earnest. None of it means as much to me as you do. I love you. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours – entirely. I don't know where we'll go or what we'll do, but it doesn't matter, as long as we're together. Say you'll marry me, Elsie. _Please_."

"Yes, I'll marry you! I love you, Charles … I love you. Yes!"

She slid her hands over his shoulders and clasped them behind his head as he wrapped his arms around her more securely. They stared at each other eagerly, expectantly. After a breathless moment, their faces seemed to draw nearer of their own accord, hers angling up and his tilting down. As their lips came together, just barely grazing each other, his forehead bumped the brim of her hat and pushed it askew, denying them any opportunity to savor, prolong, or augment the brief, light contact that never quite became a kiss. She laughed and withdrew from him slightly, and he smiled down at her.

"Your hat … May I?" he asked, releasing her from his embrace and raising his hands towards her head. She nodded her permission and remained still as he located and extracted her hat pins, delicately removed her sun bonnet, and placed the hat and pins on the ground, on top of his bowler. Then he slowly walked around her, inspecting her coiffure and gently adjusting and repositioning any hair pins that had become dislodged, taking much more care than was strictly necessary. When he was satisfied that each strand of hair had been returned to its proper place, he stood behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders, and caressed her neck with his thumbs. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Perfect ... You are _so_ lovely, Elsie," and lovingly kissed her cheek.

"Charles … " she breathed. "If you don't kiss me soon, I shall have to reconsider my answer."

"But I _have_ just kissed you, love," he laughed.

"Not like that!"

"I'm sorry. Was it not to your liking? How about this?" Holding her by the waist, he turned her to face him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Then he bent his head, ever so slowly, and when she closed her eyes, he kissed her sweetly on her forehead. She opened her eyes and huffed.

"That's no good, either!" she complained.

"Then I shall have to keep trying until I get it right!" he persisted and leaned in to kiss her nose.

"No, that's still not right. But you're getting closer. Just a bit lower, please."

"Here?" he asked, kissing her chin.

"Oh, you incorrigible man! Mr. Carson, I do believe I'm having a change of heart about our recent understanding," she threatened impatiently.

"We can't have that, Mrs. Hughes, now, can we? Give me just one more chance to convince you to honor our agreement."

"Very well. But I warn you: I'll not be easily swayed."

"Then I must make a _very_ persuasive argument."

"See that you do."

And with that, he finally covered her mouth with his. Skillfully using his lips, tongue, and teeth to apply gentle suction, insistent pressure, and delicious friction, in just the right measure and with just the right timing, he put forth quite a compelling case. She accepted and returned his kisses with equal fervor. After a long while, Mr. Carson stopped to ask, "Was that satisfactory?"

"I'm tempted to say 'no,' just so you'll try again," Mrs. Hughes teased. "Only, I think I need to sit down after that."

"Splendid!" he beamed proudly, removing his coat and spreading it on the ground near the trunk of the tree. Then he turned to look at her and ask, "So I've won you over, then?"

"Yes, my dear, you certainly _have_ done," she answered with a smile.

He sat down on his coat and opened his arms in invitation. When she reached down to take his offered hand, he tugged her gently into his lap, engulfed her in a hearty embrace, and proceeded to win her over, all over again. Eventually, both were so spent as to require calmer displays of affection, at which time she slid off his lap, sat next to him, and curled into his side. They continued holding each other, caressing and kissing, talking joyfully of their future together.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

When Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes tendered their resignations and announced their intent to marry, they didn't ask to be allowed to stay on at Downton, nor did Lord and Lady Grantham offer to keep the couple in the estate's employ. The earl and countess offered their congratulations and best wishes, acknowledged how sorry they were to lose their valued heads of staff, and thanked them for their years of service. The butler and housekeeper in turn expressed their gratitude to their employers for the kindness they'd been shown during their time at the house. The whole exchange was formal but sincere.

The newly betrothed pair served out their notice while making preparations for their future together. Mr. Carson secured his future position as an accountant in a bank in Ripon, and Mrs. Hughes was promised a job as a seamstress in a dress shop. They even arranged to rent rooms over the grocer's storefront. Though disheartened at the prospect of leaving their home and loved ones, they were nonetheless eager to begin their married life.

One afternoon before they left Downton, when the Dowager Countess was visiting the Abbey, she asked to see Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes privately after tea. Having no idea why she might want to speak with them, they entered the drawing room with some confusion and trepidation. Their feelings turned to disbelief when Old Lady Grantham informed them that she'd like to take them on at the Dower House. They listened as she recounted how she'd recently discovered that her butler, Mr. Pratt, had been seen carrying on with a trio of women at the Grantham Arms; all four were heavily intoxicated. She claimed she'd never trusted him and his shifty eyes, and was only too relieved to have her suspicions confirmed and be shot of him. She further explained that, while her smaller house had never required the services of an actual housekeeper before, she felt she could no longer get by with only a cook and housemaid. She was hoping to aid her son and daughter-in-law in finding suitable matches for her granddaughters, and that meant that she would need to be much more active socially. If she were to host more parties and other events for acquaintances with eligible grandsons and nephews, then she would need someone capable and trustworthy to coordinate those efforts. Finding herself suddenly in need of both a butler and housekeeper, she thought of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. When Mr. Carson began to protest, saying she couldn't possibly approve of a married couple running her house, she silenced him quickly. Claiming she'd like to start a new trend, she insisted that soon all her friends would be envious and start looking to pair off _their_ servants, too.

And so it was that Mr. and Mrs. Carson, shortly after their marriage, became butler and housekeeper to the Dowager Countess of Grantham. The less demanding duties of a smaller house allowed them to relax and devote more time and energy to each other, but their mistress was sufficiently lively in her own right that life in the house never was dull. Old Lady Grantham was a kind and accommodating benefactress, and when she passed away at a ripe old age, the Carsons moved to a cottage on the estate, one which the Dowager had previously asked her son to hold in reserve for them. Conveniently nestled between the great house in which they'd spent their earlier years and the smaller one in which they'd enjoyed their more mature years, they lived out their later years in their own little home, happier than they ever could have hoped.

**A/N Please leave a review, and don't forget to drop brenna-louise a line! Thank you for reading!**

**ALSO, I HAVE NOT CHECKED THIS TEXT OVER COMPLETELY. I'M A LITTLE BLEARY-EYED RIGHT NOW, BUT I DON'T WANT TO WAIT TO POST IT. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU CATCH ANY MISTAKES. THANKS IN ADVANCE!**


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